Sherlock's Kitten
by Curlycupgumweed
Summary: "What's that?"-"That's a kitten Sherlock"-Only it wasn't... Kid!Sherlock. Teen!John. Kid-ish!Mycroft.
1. A Little Trip

Two-shot, not to be taken seriously, serious fluff, Kid!sherlock, Teen!John, and Kid-ish!Mycroft

Please enjoy!

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Young Sherlock Holmes walked rapidly beside his older brother. Despite being only three and a half, the small boy was content to travel briskly without holding anyone's hand. Only mummy, in his mind, had the privilege to hold his hand without a clear reason. For anyone else- if it wasn't necessary- he refused. His brother Mycroft had once tried, in an awkward attempt to show brotherly affection and concern, but the action was so strange and uncomfortable that Sherlock immediately started to wriggle his hand out of the grasp. After that, Mycroft never attempted such an action again, and as far Sherlock was concerned that was just fine.

On this particular day, which was nothing truly wonderful nor horrendous, the Holmes brothers-who were both dressed rather smartly- were walking around the campus of the school. Mycroft was theoretical going to attend the school the coming year; however, Sherlock knew that Mycroft had no intention of coming to this particular establishment. By the way his brother's mouth was drawn and the way his eyes half closed to from an unimpressed aura, the youngest Holmes suspected that Mycroft would be having words with their father later that night.

"You don't like it here." Sherlock stated looking around the empty campus with disinterest. Though really, it sounded more like "you don' like ih here" as Sherlock had trouble pronouncing his "t"s.

"Elocution Sherlock," Mycroft responded, "and no."

"Because the school doesn't look nice?" Sherlock asked looking up at the school walls with their plethora moss patches and of water stains.

Mycroft turned the corner and led the duo towards the back of the school "While the establishment is somewhat shoddy, that's not the reason."

Mycroft slowed his step to allow his younger brother time to catch up with him, and looked down to see Sherlock waiting patiently for him to explain.

"You remember the library we visited?" Mycroft asked.

"Uh huh." Sherlock nodded his head black curls bobbing in his face.

"Well, I took the liberty of looking around. The books, chairs, and almost everything else were old, implying that the school lacks funding. In the books, the pages closer to the front were more frayed than the pages in the back meaning that the teachers don't get through their entire lesson plan, and in many of the books I found vandalism caused by unruly students, implying a faulting disciplinary system." Mycroft sighed in annoyance. "And to top it all off the literature was dull. In the end all the evidence points to a truly mediocre school."

Sherlock glanced up at his older brother with sly eyes. While all the things Mycroft said may have been unpleasant, they weren't what his older brother was actually concerned about. "They give out lots of work don't they?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft's pace quickened, his grip on his umbrella tightened in annoyance and the child knew he had hit the mark. Sherlock's tiny mouth drew upward in a small smirk. Oh Mycroft. So lazy. So predictable. The smile quickly settled back into a mask of indifference as Sherlock started jogging to keep up with Mycroft.

"Mycroft?" (thought it actually sounded like "Mycrof?") Sherlock tried to get his brother's attention.

He frowned in frustration when he was ignored.

"Mycrof'T'." Little Sherlock enunciated the "t" as best he could. Fine, have your precious elocution.

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Can we go home now?"

"No."

"But you already said you didn't like the school."

"Yes. But Mummy expects us home in half an hour. That means we need to walk around this place for twenty more minutes before she'll be satisfied that we've actually checked this dreaded place out."

"But this place is boring."

"It will be good exercise."

"I don't need the exercise."

"Do you want to me to take your magnifying glass, and put it some where you can't reach?"

"…no"

"Then you need the exercise."

Frowning Sherlock stuffed his hands in his black short pockets before stalking after his brother. They continued walking pointlessly around. Sherlock kicked at the dry cobble stone pathway until Mycroft scolded him for scuffing and getting dust on his shoes. After that they walked on in unexciting silence until they came back around to the front of the school.

Sherlock stopped.

Ahead of them a teen was laughing lightly and petting a small cat. The adolescent had short sandy blond hair and a sweater tied round his waist, and the brown tabby kitten was lying on its back and swatting at the fingers of the teen.

Sherlock had never seen a kitten before, but oddly, the small cat wasn't what captured his attention. It was the laughter emitting from the teenager. Sherlock had never heard someone laugh, or at least he couldn't ever remember witnessing the event. The teenager seemed so... at ease, so happy... it was weird.

Mummy smiled, but never laughed. Father was never around when Sherlock was awake, so he had no way of knowing. Mycroft... well... Mycroft was Mycroft, and any other guest that graced the Holmes house was there strictly for business, so of course their faces were masks of business.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked grabbing the sleeve of his brother, and pointing in the direction of the teen and the kitten. Of course he should have said 'who' instead of "what", but something in his three year old mind told him that a person so unlike all the other people he knew, must be from a different species entirely.

Mycroft looked down at his brother thinking he was talking about the small feline.

"That's a kitten Sherlock."

"Really?" The little boy's eyebrows rose, and his eye's widened.

"Yes. A kitty. A young cat. A small feline, and by the looks of it, it's a stray."

Sherlock squinted. The sweater the teen was wearing around its waist was rather ratty, but he saw nothing that would imply that the creature was homeless. He needed to get better at deducing things like this.

"Wait," Something dawned on Sherlock. "So it's not a person?"

Mycroft looked down at Sherlock, incredulous. "Of course not."

"Is it as smart as a person?"

Mycroft snorted. "Hardly. They either run around wild, or people keep them as pets."

Pets? Sherlock's eye's brightened. "Can I have him?"

Mycroft scoffed, but then looked down at the hopeful look in his brother's eyes. He rolled his eyes, and placed his umbrella in the crook of his arm.

"If you can catch it, you can bring it home and ask Mummy. But if you get scratched, it's not my fault… and just so you know, that's a girl kitten." Mycroft finally said.

Sherlock nodded in affirmation. His soft face was set in a serious expression, but his eye's were filled with an excited energy. Mycroft rolled his eye's again. He looked over at the teen playing with the kitten and assessed that he wasn't a danger to his brother. And since he wasn't a danger to his brother, Mycroft felt no qualms about leaving Sherlock unsupervised. In fact Mycroft could use this distraction to go and find the bowl of candy he had spotted earlier in the front office. Candy always seemed to taste better when Mycroft didn't have his little brother's judging eyes-or snide comments about how Mycroft's "terrible eating habits would catch up with him someday"-keeping him company.

Before Mycroft left he looked down to see Sherlock starting to formulate his plan of attack.

"Come find me at the front of the school, when you're done with your little 'adventure'." Mycroft rounded the corner of the school and disappeared from sight.

tbc...

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(Racoon guy from "Over the Hedge"): You see this review? You like the review? Yeah? Well you know what? This review is junk! *throws review over fence*

(Me): *sniff* But I like da review:(

*ahem* Chap 2 coming soon. Thank you so much for reading this. If you have any constructive criticism (or you just want to say hi :D) I'd love to hear from you!

Anyway TTFN!


	2. Secret Friend

_"Come find me at the front of the school, when you're done with your little 'adventure'." Mycroft rounded the corner of the school and disappeared from sight._

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Sherlock took a deep breath before he started approaching the teen. Slowly he crept behind, inching his way forward over the cobblestone courtyard until he was about three feet away from his target. Closer…closer…until…

Sherlock pounced!

"Crimeny!" The adolescent exclaimed when the small boy latched onto his arm. The tiny creature he had been playing with jumped up in surprise and scampered away with its tail puffed up.

Sherlock looked up in shock. The kitten could talk! Mycroft had said they weren't as smart as humans. But then again, he reminded himself, talking did not automatically mean intelligence. Parrots were perfect examples of this.

"It's okay kitty." Sherlock said in the most soothing voice he could make. He patted the teen on the arm in an attempt to pacify him.

"Kitty?" The sandy haired youth asked in confusion, but didn't pull away.

Sherlock grinned. Success! He also released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. This was turning out fantastic!

"Yes." Sherlock said looking up. He grabbed the teen by the hand. "Now don't be scared."

The teenager awkwardly stood up and allowed himself to be pulled away from the place he had been kneeling, by the small child. Hunched over to accommodate the height differences, John found himself being pulled toward the front of the school yard.

"What? Wait, I'm confused. What's going on?"

"Don't be scared kitty." Sherlock said again. And then as if talking to a person that had trouble understanding speech, he explained slowly. "I'm going to take you home, and show you to Mummy."

"Why?" the teen asked patiently.

"Because Mycroft said that if I could catch you I could take you home."

"Why would you want to take me home?"

"Because you're weird, and I've never seen a kitten before." Sherlock paused as if considering, "and you could play with me… I could make us cocoa and we could be pirates together."

"You think I'm a …? But I'm not a kitten, silly." The teen smiled, in a good-natured and bemused way.

Sherlock stopped and then frowned up at the teenager. "Of course you are. Mycroft said you were."

The teenager chuckled and kneeled down. "No. I'm a human… a person."

The little boy was unconvinced

"I live in a house, just like everyone else, with my family, and my name is John Watson. A perfectly good name for a regular ol' person wouldn't you say? "

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the teen. John didn't seem to be lying… but on the other hand, it was impossible for Mycroft to be wrong. Wasn't it? So if Mycroft was unable to be wrong, and if the kitten thought it was telling the truth...The toddlers eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, poor kitty. You don't know that you're a cat!"

John's mouth became a slant. Well, he hadn't been expecting that.

"But I mean it." He tried again. "I'm not a cat."

"Kitten."

"Alright, I'm not a kitten."

"Of course you are."

"Really I'm not."

The little boy stamped his foot in impatience. "But Mycroft said you were. You've gotta be a kitten! He's never wrong. Never!"

"But…"

"Never!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"..."

John sighed. His sister Harry would get this way with him. So often, in fact, that John knew if he wasn't delicate, the little boy in front of him might just erupt in to a tantrum.

"Alright." John conceded. "You win. I'm a cat."

"Kitten."

"Fine, kitten."

Sherlock let go of his frown, and a smile quickly took its place. A rather smug smile too; the type that occurred after he had won some sort of challenge or debate. And with that, Sherlock began to resume his dragging of John by the hand... Or he would have had John not remained kneeling.

Sherlock cast an indignant look upon the teen.

"Come on." He demanded tugging John's arm.

"Oh, but I can't." John said.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked in an angry manner.

"Well you see," John began biting his lip, and looking off to the side for a plausible excuse. A second later his face lit up, and he began talking as if telling a story, "I have a sister. She may be older than me, but it's my responsibility to keep her out of trouble. I can't come with you because I need to take care of her."

Sherlock's brow puckered in light of this new evidence.

"I could have your sister come and live with us." Sherlock supplied after a moment of consideration."

Well that didn't work. John needed another excuse. He thought back to earlier in the conversation.

"And I don't drink cocoa, so we couldn't have that together."

"I can give yours to my brother. He loves sweets."

Foiled again "…hm…alright. You said something about pirates?"

"Yes." Sherlock's eyes began to shine at the mention of his favorite subject.

"Well you can't take me home because pirates don't like kittens!"

"What?"

"Or at least they never associate with them. Think about it. Pirates always have parrots. Never kittens. It would absolutely ruin their reputations!"

"Oh." Sherlock contemplated this new piece of information. Was it a logical statement? Well, he had never heard of a pirate ever having a kitten. Not to mention that pirates were blood thirsty ruffians, and John... well, John looked absolutely warm and cuddly, nothing at all like a ruthless plunderer. With all the evidence stacked up, Sherlock's three and a half year old mind was convinced.

"I suppose that means I can't take you home…" Sherlock finally responded looking dejected.

"I suppose not."

John breathed an internal sigh of relief when the strange little boy finally let go of his sleeve, and was prepared to say a prompt good-bye to the child when he noticed how sad the boy was. He didn't look like he was going to cry, but… John couldn't help notice just how _disappointed_ the little lad seemed. Like John had just snatched away a treasure. John shuffled his feet over the cobblestone and felt a weight settle in his chest also known as guilt.

"You know," after consideration, "this doesn't mean we can't be friends." John said gently.

"No!" Sherlock shouted unexpectedly, and John was taken aback. "I'm a pirate! Pirates don't like kittens!"

"Well, you can be a special pirate. We'll just make it a secret. A secret friendship between a pirate and a kitten."

The little boy looked at John bitterly. Searching his features Sherlock seemed to be weighing something unseen in his mind.

"You're trying to trick me." The boy stated

"No, no, honest I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You have no reason to want to be my friend except to tell everyone that I befriended a kitten, and then ruin any chance I have at becoming a pirate."

"No, I promise that I have no intention of telling anyone."

Sherlock regarded him cautiously.

"No one?"

"Not a soul. I give you my word that I will never breathe a word of it... I'll even spit in my hand and shake on it."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I'd much rather have us sign it in blood, since that's what a pirate would do, but since neither one of us has a knife, I suppose that we should just shake on it_ without _ spit."

"Alright, I can do that."

John thrust out his hand with a chuckle.

"You're an awfully strange half pint."

Sherlock accepted the offered hand.

"And you're a strange... actually, no, you're the only kitten I know." A realization came to the young boy. "Hey!"

"What?" John asked.

"You're my first friend!" Sherlock said.

"You're my friend." He said again a little starstruck.

He giggled and started to bounce the way three and a half year olds were supposed to, and it occurred to John that what was happening was slightly more significant than what he had first thought. The little jumps were short-lived however, and little Sherlock closed his eye's as if to savor the moment. When he opened them, John looked into the bright intelligent eyes of the boy.

"I need to go." the boy said.

John was surprised by the abruptness.

"So soon?" He asked.

Sherlock nodded, and his dark curly hair bounced.

"By brother is waiting for me."

"Oh,"

Sherlock smiled sadly.

"It was good to meet you Kitty."

John half smiled.

"Call me John."

"It was good to meet you, John."

"And it was good to meet you, Pirate...?"

"Sherlock."

"Pirate Sherlock."

The two of them shook hands once more, and John suddenly wished that Sherlock didn't have to leave, and that he could talk with the little boy some more. But that was a silly wish that came out of nowhere. He quickly dismissed the idea, and started to wave as Sherlock ran toward the front of the school.

"Good-bye John!" The child shouted over his shoulder.

"Good-bye Sherlock!" John called in farewell.

And within hardly a minute Sherlock disappeared around the side of the school, and John decided to go home.

* * *

"So how did the escapade with the kitten go?" Mycroft asked as he and Sherlock walked to the car that would take them home.

"I caught it, but it told me that...that it couldn't come home with me, so I let it go."

Mycroft gave his younger brother an incredulous raised eyebrow.

"Don't make up stories Sherlock." He said as he climbed into the black leather seated car with Sherlock.

"But I didn't! You could ask John yourself." Sherlock protested.

Mycroft's eyebrows shot up , but his mouth stayed a rigid line. "I told you not to make up stories."

"But I didn't!"

"Sherlock, we are done talking about this." He commanded firmly. Their chauffeur started the car up.

Sherlock glared in anger, but remained silent. He even turned away from Mycroft to stare out the window.

The trip home proceeded in silence, and Sherlock glowered in the back seat and tried to scoot himself as far away from his brother as possible. The angry fury that tightened his muscles, however, gradually subsided as he thought of his secret. The secret that not Mycroft, not Father, not even Mummy knew. His secret... secret friend. Sherlock thought of his kitten friend, John.

And he genuinely smiled.

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I'm ALIIIIIIIIIIIVEEEE!

And and and! This is my first completed story! (I'm so sorry to the people who are reading my other stories!)

*does a happy jig*

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(Warning: Author angst up ahead)

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Blah! I'm sorry that I take so long, and it's late at night so I probably made a lot of mistakes, and I'm pretty bad at grammar, so I'm sorry for anyone who was cringing at all my bad sentences (though the use of connectors at the beginning of sentences was intentional.) and I'm sorry if the ending seems abrupt...and... and ... Gah!

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(End author angst)

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All in all, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Though, I will say that I think my writing could use some bulkier paragraphs(If you have any constructive criticism I would love it:) as I'm afraid that my stories may be a bit rushed Also, I may have given little Sherlock a slightly more eloquent vocabulary then I should have. Y'know, considering he's not even four yet, but, hey. He thought John was a cat, and this is fanfiction so... yup. That's my story and I'm sticken to it.

Anyway,

Thank to everyone that has stayed with this story, and thank you very much for your encouraging comments!


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